


Before We Fall

by NeoVenus22



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night visitor has Sam thinking about the difficulties of leadership.  Namely, what to do when she's sleeping with a subordinate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before We Fall

Sam shuffled to the door in a barely conscious haze, until she realized two things. One, this was not the SGC, this was Atlantis, which meant opening the door didn't involve a knob at all. She realized this only after bashing her knuckles against the door. And two, this was not the SGC, this was Atlantis, which meant she was in charge and should demonstrate some sort of respectability and capability for command. She realized this only after finally succeeding in getting the door open and finding Colonel Sheppard standing there, still dressed, while she paraded around in her pajamas.

"Colonel," she greeted him, trying not to blush, "why don't you come in?" The fewer people who wandered by her door and saw her like this, the better. She shouldn't care, but she did. This, after all, wasn't the SGC, this was Atlantis.

Of course, it wasn't until after the door had closed behind her and Sheppard that another synapse in Sam's brain fired and reminded her it might not have been the best of ideas luring her subordinates into her quarters after hours.

"Colonel," she greeted him, evenly, neutrally.

"Colonel," he matched her tone, but topped it off with a slight ironic grin. Sam was becoming more and more aware of her appearance under his cool scrutiny. Loose sweatpants, a graying tank top, a ponytail that she'd slept on oddly so that she had an enormous wing of hair sticking up in the back. Did he have to smirk so much?

Sam gave up. "Is there a reason you're here, John?" she sighed.

"Well, I _was_ coming to apologize, but I'm not sure I like your tone."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I'm sure you can come up with a list of things."

Sam tried not to smile at his tone. Cocky, casual, classic John. "I don't have that kind of time," she said.

John's smirk was barely perceptible. "Was that an insult?"

"Why are you really here, John?"

John's wide grin should have been a warning, but maybe she wasn't completely awake yet. The was next to her, hands landing lightly on her hips as his lips landed on hers. She was too stunned to stop him. She was too weak to stop herself.

Then his fingers weren't on top of her clothes, they were sliding underneath, so warm, and she was awake suddenly. Sam pulled herself away and stepped back. "Okay, this is a bad idea."

"It's a bad idea we've had before," he pointed out.

A bad idea with good consequences, she thought, her body pulling taut in equal parts memory and anticipation. She knew just what he could do to her. And she could lie to everyone else, obviously or not, but she couldn't lie to herself: she wanted him. Terribly.

"It's different now," she said, her sharp tone intended more for herself. She tried to force herself to relax. But not too much. Like everything else, it was a delicate line. "It's different now, John. I'm your CO. It's..." Sam trailed off, realizing there was no word that could fill in the blank that wouldn't make her a huge hypocrite. What about all those years with Jack?

Sam smoothed her tank top down over her abdomen. "You should probably go," she said, with a confidence she abruptly lost the second she looked up and realized he was following the progress of her hands with his eyes.

She wondered what it was about John Sheppard that disarmed her so much. She wondered if she'd disarmed Jack in the same way. She wondered when the student had become the teacher.

While she was thinking about these things, John had been preferring action. He descended on her again, opening her mouth slowly with his tongue, and Sam helplessly asked herself, _why not_? She could think of several perfectly suitable reasons why not, at least one for each finger that was carefully sloping its way up John's shoulders. In the end, she ignored every last one of them and kissed him anyway.

Sam didn't know how long she'd been asleep before he'd come knocking, didn't know how late at night or early in the morning it was by Atlantis Standard. She let the remaining hours of darkness pass while she relearned John's body. For his part, John hadn't seemed to have forgotten hers. Time and distance hadn't seemed to matter; he could still very easily make her moan and shudder.

"It's not a good idea if you stay," she murmured afterwards, his palm on her stomach exceedingly distracting. Did dismissing him, even knowing he wouldn't leave, absolve her of sin if he stayed? Probably not. Keeping with the honesty theme, she wasn't thrilled at the prospect of feeling his side of the bed cool.

"It's probably a little late for that. Atlantis is worse than Stargate Command when it comes to the rumor mill."

They were two people uniquely qualified to know that. With a sour twinge, Sam remembered that was how this all got started. It probably shouldn't have happened there, but it definitely shouldn't have been happening here and now. She had her job to think about, not to mention her good name. She hadn't slept her way to the top as the rumor mill might suggest, but she wasn't doing anything for her reputation now.

Sam sighed and sat up, allowing the sheet to slide down her body a little as she struggled for height advantage over his lazy, sprawling body. "We can't keep doing this," was her final, grasping-at-straws attempt.

"But we will," he said with authority. A resigned sort, at least, which she supposed was a step in the right direction. At least he recognized the enormity of the situation.

Worse yet, though, she was a bit flattered to know he was aware of the consequences and wanted to do it anyway.

It was flattering, but dangerous.

Sam didn't answer him. She knew it was a miracle they'd resisted this long, given that the moment she'd stepped through the 'gate, he'd given her a hungry sort of look that had melted her resolve. Never mind that she was far from the first woman on the receiving end of that expression, but John had a way about him, and Sam had, like it or not, established a pattern.

"Do you really want me to go?" asked John, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her horizontally once more. The sheet fluttered in protest, falling between her breasts at an angle, like a poorly wrapped toga.

Oh, she really didn't. His arm pressed awkwardly into her back, so she rolled over slightly, head on his shoulder, breath across his neck. It was a matter of comfort, she told herself, that was all. It just happened to look like an embrace. Feel like an embrace. John's hand cradled her hip; the fingers of the other skimmed her ribs idly. She didn't know if it was desire or loneliness, but she knew that even the tentative sleep she'd embraced before John had come knocking would elude her completely if he left her here alone.

"I didn't think so," he murmured, and she'd already forgotten the question. Maybe she'd been wrong; sleep was starting to come pretty quickly.

It had been easier in Colorado. Little notice was paid should John's rental end up on Sam's street. But now they were living in a city where life signs were monitored, John had a reputation, and she was under scrutiny enough from the people who preferred Elizabeth's leadership (or, at the very least, less of a military presence), not to mention the IOA breathing down her neck. They'd never been in love with her to begin with, and since she continued doing things like this, she couldn't quite blame them.

She and John were miraculously alike in one respect or two, perhaps the main reason they'd come together in the first place. Married to this job, albeit for different reasons, but nonetheless. And as such, it crushed them, made them yearn to loosen the valve and release a little stress once in awhile. There was mutual respect and mutual attraction.

But she knew in the end that wouldn't matter.

She awoke hazily later, unsure when she'd fallen asleep and how much time had passed. John snoozed without care and she resented him for it. She wasn't quite at the point where she was familiar enough with Atlantis that she could sleep soundly. And she hated that he wasn't at least a little worried about his position; his good standing with the IOA came from the backing of select superiors only.

At the end of the day, Sam didn't want her recommendation of him to be marked with an asterisk. He was too good at his job, all too aware of what missions like these truly meant, for her to taint this. She gazed at his profile and hoped he felt the same way about her.

They weren't bad together. He could offer her pleasure, satisfaction, and companionship. All things she was lacking. And all without strings.

But it felt like an affair. All right, it was an affair. One that might eventually end up splitting her attention. Like the sort of conflict of interest that had taken place during eight years at the SGC. It was the sort of caring that had brought them closer together, made them a better team, the best team, but at the same time it was risky. It impaired their judgment. Sam had only a few regrets.

This wouldn't be one of them.

She nudged John's shoulder until he stirred. "What."

"I think it's time for you to go."

"It's early," he groaned.

"John."

Even in his post-snooze haze, he seemed to recognize the severity of her tone. His eyes opened to stare her down. "Think this is it?"

"It should be."

"You've said that before."

"Don't make me make it an order," she said, only half-joking.

John grinned. It would be awhile before she could train herself to not be affected. "You know I have a problem with authority."

"Be that as it may."

"Are you sure?"

Honestly, she wasn't, not entirely. She took it all in, storing the data away for later: the unruly hair, made worse by sleep; the lines of his chest and stomach defined by her sheets alternately draped and pulled taut over him; the hint of the smile even though now he seemed serious; the eyes that studied her intently. She remembered the way his neck tasted, the possessive feel of his hands on her hips and thighs. It took considerable effort, but she knew it was right: "Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay. Ma'am."

John was gone by the time she got out of the shower. She combed out her sopping hair, hacked at a tangle, and swept it all back into a tight, wet ponytail. The tie was going to make it dry with a kink. She knew she should braid it, but it was getting late, and she was only supposed to have a morning meeting with Rodney. She didn't want to put forth that much effort when all she was going to do was argue with him for an hour and a half.

She passed him on the way to the mess hall. He was coming from the direction of his quarters, looking for all the world like he was just getting up. She couldn't imagine how he pulled this off, but she felt a rush of affection and gratitude. "Colonel," she greeted him.

He gave her a curt but not unfriendly nod. "Colonel."

"Big plans for today?"

"Briefing at 0200, going off-world at 0300. But you knew that."

Sam smiled at her boots. "Just checking to make sure you're paying attention, John."

"And you?"

It took her a minute to realize he was asking about her day. "Departmental meeting with Rodney. I'll try not to keep him too long."

"Keep him as long as you like." He nodded at the mess hall, "This is my stop. Getting food?"

"Don't think I have the time," she said apologetically. She did, of course. She just wasn't convinced she'd be able to handle a meal with him so soon after. She didn't know what she might inadvertently give away.

"Your loss. You're going to miss Ronon on waffle day."

That sounded tremendously appealing, both the waffles and the accompanying show. Still. She had to be strong. "'Fraid not. Take pictures for me?"

"Lorne could probably have video on the network within the hour."

"I don't think I give him enough to do."

"I don't notice you spontaneously handing out busywork," he observed with a grin.

"I have a long day ahead of me, Jo--Colonel," she corrected. "I could use the entertainment."

"I'm always up for offering you some entertainment."

John Sheppard was a very dangerous man, Sam thought. "I'm sure you are. But I'm about to be late for my meeting."

"Right. I'll see you this afternoon, then."

Sam blinked at him. "Will you?"

"Briefing, remember?" he said, grinning. She tried not to flush.

"Of course, right. I'll see you later, then, for that." She flicked her hand at him in a wave that managed to be both unprofessional and completely childish and ridiculous, and headed off, properly humiliated, for her office.

This was not going to be easy.


End file.
